


All's Well That Ends Well

by heroiccaptain



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff, Gay, Gay Love, Happy Ending, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Canon Fix-It, References to Oscar Wilde, a little bit of angst but it turns out okay i promise, bill haydon references, boarding school aesthetic, broken spy, jim prideaux deserves a proper access to a bathroom, literature teacher/french teacher, mahler references, post ttss events, sad spy deserves love, soft jim prideaux, soft spy, teacher/head master, thomas carlisle - Freeform, tinker tailor soldier spy - Freeform, ttss references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroiccaptain/pseuds/heroiccaptain
Summary: A few years after TTSS events, Jim Prideaux ended up becoming the head master of the boarding school, while teaching French classes to the boys. Still living in his trailer and adjusted to his typical lonely routine, not even his spy intuition could predict that a knock on his office door was going to change his life for the better.
Relationships: Jim Prideaux & Bill Roach, Jim Prideaux/Original Character(s), Jim Prideaux/Other(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 120





	1. A Rainy Morning

**Author's Note:**

> After TTSS events, John Le Carré decided not to give Jim Prideaux true love, comfort or a proper access to a bathroom. I'm not John Le Carré and I'm here to write him a story he deserves to have. A life he deserves to live, after all that has been taken from him.  
> I guess this is way softer than the way Monsieur Le Carré writes his stories, but I thought Jim deserved a softer narrative :)

A man knocks at the door.

Isn’t that how the greatest films start?

Jim Prideaux’s past could have become a film, but the past was actually a matter he had been trying to avoid.

Since the day he did what he had to do (for himself and for England), his rifle rested behind one of the tiny shelves in his trailer, only to be used in case of danger.

Not that danger was his normality anymore. The routine of a French teacher was slightly calmer than the spy life he was used to. Between letting the boys drive his Alvis in the football field and teaching the use of proper french verbs, he managed to adjust himself and survive the best way he could.

It wasn’t exactly dull. Sometimes, Nurse Collins developed intrigues about the nearest village more complex than any of the international matters he worked with at the Circus. 

It became even more agitated six months ago when the former head master ran away with his lover (who the rest of staff found out later to be the physical education teacher) and all the other teachers (except for Mr. Murray, the literature teacher, who quit right after the scandal) decided that James Ellis was the most convenient choice for the position, since he was the only one who literally lived in the school. 

He had accepted the task, with his usual responsability. He now had a small private office, which had better cabinets to hide his extra bottles of liquor and a bigger desk where he could correct the french exams more comfortably. 

It was lonely, of course. Even lonelier in the cold nights of winter, when all he had to keep himself warm was a blanket, cigars and scotch in that bloody trailer of his. But he couldn’t (and would never) complain. He was alive, wasn’t he? He had gone through hell. That life was decent, even if he didn’t feel alive at all.

The man knocked for the second time on the head master’s office door.

“Come in”, Jim said, removing his attention from the papers he had been reading.

He did. His oxford shoes were covering in mud for it was raining earlier, and his outfit, which consisted in a pair of brown pants, black belt, a white social shirt and a simple red tie were an indicative he had gone there for an interview.

With a quick look, Jim noticed his brown curled hair, a sharp jawline and intense hazel eyes.

The man was almost as tall as Jim, ten years younger than him and as soon as he made eye contact with the man who was sitting, he adjusted his glasses, nervously.

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Ellis?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“I came here to apply to the literature teacher position. I heard the last one quit a while ago”

“Oh, yes. That’s correct”, Jim suddenly reminded the conservative Mr. Murray was gone, which had been a blessing to everyone. “Take a sit. Have you worked somewhere else before?”

“I did. First in St. Mary’s Mead, a village far from here, where I was born and then in a bigger school, near Dover”, he said while sitting right in front of the head master chair.

“What made you leave?”

Jim, unlike other head masters, rather preferred to ask questions directly than to read some information on a paper. His spy training gave him the abilities required to see right through someone’s lies and actions. Jim also considered himself a good judge of character. In his whole life, his judgement had only been wrong one time.

The man looked down and then stared Jim’s eyes for the first time in that interview.

Jim was staring back at him, checking every move. His look seemed more sensible now he was closer. Jim could sense honesty and gentleness in his intense eyes.

“It was a very religious school. In one of my classes, I comitted the mistake of reading a Oscar Wilde poem and asking the kids to annalyse it. They fired me the next day”, the man looked down again, embarrassed.

There was something interesting about his simplicity and shyness. Jim could see he was afraid of his response to that story, so he made him another question.

“Which poem did you read?”

The man’s eyes soon looked up, wider than ever, surprised by the question. He had been to other three schools before that and in any other interview the head master allowed him to stay in the room after he had mentioned the name Oscar Wilde.

“Symphony in Yellow”, he answered carefully, “I wanted to show the kids how a poem can paint a picture in your head, how poetry can transport you to the place the poet wanted to show you, but unfortunately religious values are somehow more important than the words of a great poet”.

He spoke with passion and Jim could see he actually cared about literature, which was much more than he could say about the narrow-minded Mr. Murray.

“You could have lied to me. Found a loose excuse, hid that story. Why didn’t you?”, Jim was testing him.

“I want to be hired for the right reasons, Mr. Ellis. I have a great sense of respect for literature and I can’t share my knowledge about it if at the same time I’m willing to censor it, specially if the censorship is motivated by prejudice. That’s my principle, sir. 

The man, judging by the head master’s expression, felt like he had just been approved in a test.

“I respect and agree with your views. You are free to read Symphony in Yellow and what else you think it’s important to the boys’ learning in your class here, Mister...?”

“Oh god, I forgot to tell you my name. How embarrassing. Thomas. Thomas Carlisle.”

Thomas fixed his eyes on Jim’s face, curious about how the man seemed serious but not at all scary. He seemed trustworthy.

“Could you start next week, Mr. Carlisle?”, Jim politely asked.

“Yes, sure I can.”

“Good. The position is yours, then.”

Jim stood up and offered his hand to Thomas, who nervously adjusted his glasses again, before shaking Jim’s hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Ellis”

Thomas left his office, closing the door behind him.

Jim poured himself some scotch and glanced at the window to see the green fields that surrounded the school, his trailer a couple yards away from there and a tall man enjoying to walk in the rain, even if his shoes were more covered in mud than before.

Jim Prideaux was a man that liked the idea of walking while feeling the rain softly falling down on his face and felt confusingly enchanted for seeing the new literature teacher doing the same that morning. He felt a glimpse of interest he hadn’t in years.

Thomas was happily enjoying the feeling of rain on his face, while all he could think about was that after his difficult past, he had finally met someone different from everyone else and felt thankful for his existence.

_All’s well that ends well_ , like the proverb says.

Their story was just beginning.


	2. Love Is A Matter Of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Thomas begin to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy it and feel as soft as I am when writing this, just trying my best to give Jim Prideaux the story he deserves :')

_Did he really get back to England alive? Or was he just a dead man existing?_

Monday morning. 5am. Another nightmare, another memory.

He woke up suddenly, feeling the sweat on his forehead.

3 hours later, there he was finishing the last class of the morning, relentessly.

Implacable, like Jim Ellis didn’t carry the weight of Jim Prideaux’s life on his shoulders. Quite literally. He could physically feel the consequences from his past and they weren’t very comfortable.

His shoulder was hurting more than usual lately, he realized, as he entered the trailer to get his lunch.

Jim ended up laying down only to relieve the pain in the back, but suddenly fell asleep, defeated by exhaustion.

[...]

It was lunch time. Roach packed his books, hurrying up so he would get the steak pie still hot.

Monday mornings were usually a bore. He had math and geography and disliked both of the teachers.

He rather preferred Thursday classes, when he had french class in the morning and literature in the end of the evening.

It had been 2 weeks since Thomas Carlisle had been hired and the boys were now getting used in having a proper literature class.

Bill Roach wasn’t much of a fan of literary concepts or discussions, but he had been observing the new teacher and decided he liked him.

He was a gentle man, which could fool others into thinking he was weak, but Roach soon realized he wasn’t. He could state his mind very clearly and be strict with the stubborn boys when they couldn’t shut up.

Roach was now on his way to lunch, searching through the head master office to see if Jim was there.

He couldn’t find him anywhere in the school, which made him presume he was on his trailer and wonder if he was really going to skip lunch that day. Skipping lunch didn’t sound nice.

While he got lost in his thoughts, Roach was pushed by one of his annoying classmates and bumped into Thomas, as he was just walking out of the refectory.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Carlisle”

“No problem, Roach. Go enjoy your lunch”, the man smiled.

Thomas had just eaten a good salad and decided to read his book in the school’s cozy library.

He was enjoying the new place so far and managed to establish himself quite well. He had rent a small room in the village nearby, for sure the most organized lodging house he had ever been. He couldn't complain about the school either. The library was his favorite place there and he already had a favourite table to seat to read his books, what he liked to do right after lunch.

[...]

Sitting in a comfortable chair, Thomas noticed he had lost track of time, what usually happened when he had an Agatha Christie’s book in his hands. He searched for a clock on the wall, for he rarely had a watch in his wrist.

At the same moment, Jim was checking his, only to discover it was 3pm.

As he slowly woke up, he realized he had been more tired than expected. Was that the aging, he wondered, or just another consequence of endured trauma?

Nonethenless, he felt old. He had always felt old, even when a young kid. Loners naturally grow faster for there’s no other option.

He reached his food container, which had a slice of steak pie and sat on the conductor’s side of his beloved Alvis to have his meal, with the door opened and his body turned to the outside of the car. 

As Thomas walked out the library, his attention was caught by the image of Jim, having lunch by himself, as he usually did.

Thomas had been observing the head master more and more since the interview and found himself more interested on him.

A stray dog approached Jim, his dark eyes staring at Jim’s steak pie slice, begging for it.

Thomas was now watching the scene from behind one of the hallway’s column. The animal was very thin and poorly treated. His fur was covered in mud and he was a few steps away from Jim, afraid to get any closer.

Jim stared directly at the dog’s eyes for a couple seconds.

He could easily spot a victim. He could also understand the unfairness of being a lonely dog without a home.

Jim halved his slice and gave one to the dog, with a soft smile on his face.

Thomas smiled too. A spark ran through his heart.

"Oh, Thomas. It’s happening again, isn’t it?", he thought to himself.

He had been falling for Jim Ellis for a while, now that he realized.

First, it was his eyes that seemed kind. And how he had fun letting the boys drive his Alvis across the football field. Then, he had seen him comforting Roach after the excluded boy had been humilliated for having divorced parents. Now watching that scene, he had realized the pattern. Actions of a man who could only have a sensible heart. A delicate personality, hidden behind the curtains of his austerity. 

A simple man, of course. He lived in that small trailer, he had the habit of listening to Mahler’s melancholic symphonies and seemed to like rainy mornings and walking at dawn.

Thomas was enchanted by his simplicity. He believed the smallest of acts weren’t small at all. Jim’s spontaneous acts of kindness were more precious than all the wealth he could think of. Falling in love with Jim Ellis had been natural as the passage of time.

The stray dog ran away chasing a bird and Jim’s smile was gone, as he looked down, once again lonely.

Thomas urged being the one who wouldn’t let him feel that alone. No one should be that lonely, specially not him. But then, what were the odds of that man reciprocate his feelings?

“One can only dream”.

[...]

On the next morning, Thomas was walking through the fields with a book on his hand when he saw a stranger near Bill Roach, a couple meters away. 

— Good morning— he said kindly, but suspiciously — Can I help you, sir? 

—Argh, just talking to the boy here. Look, wanna sell you some stuff too. Stay right there. 

Thomas looked at Roach, who seemed to be relieved for his arrival there. The man was rude and smelled of beer. 

— Well, thank you, sir, but we’re not interested in any of that. Roach, come-

— Wait, wait, wait. Stay right there you two — the man came even closer, in a threatening way — Don’t leave until I show you what I wanna show you, damn you. 

Thomas and Roach shared a worried look on their faces. Thomas tried to reassure the boy, protecting him, but he wasn’t sure what to do in case the man got aggressive. 

Thankfully, a voice they knew very well came right from behind them. 

— What’s the matter? — Jim showed up, eyebrows frowned. 

—Ha! I’ll sell you a deal you can’t refuse. I have the papers right here in my coat — the man kept looking in his pockets. 

— We’re not interested — Jim stated coldly, forming a barrier beside Thomas to protect Roach — Go back to the school, Jumbo, go now. 

— You haven’t even seen what I’m going to sell, mate. 

— We’re not interested. Now this is a private property, could you do us a favor and leave, eh? Let’s avoid problems, shall we? 

Thomas felt secure in the company beside him and stared at him, in awe. Jim glanced for a second and their eyes met. Jim’s heartbeat increased. Thomas looked down. 

— You’ll regret this, I’m telling you two.

— Threatening? Is that how you do your business? Leave now and don’t come back. 

Jim started walking back to the school and Thomas turned as well. 

— Lucky your man came to save you, your bloody queer — the man shouted at Thomas.

They both stared back at the man and then, Jim saw a terrified look on Thomas’s face. 

— Come — Jim said in a soft tone. 

As they arrived at the hall, Thomas wandered around Jim, insecure. 

—Ellis, what that man said, huh, about me...it-

— What? It doesn’t matter if you are or not — he was rearranging books, looking down —A man can be good or bad and it’s unrelated to that. 

Thomas remained silent, mesmerized. Jim looked up, waiting for his response. A timid smile appeared on the corner of Thomas’ mouth. Jim stared at the man, then looked down, in an unexpected shy manner. 

— Sir! — Roach appeared suddenly. 

— Did that man hurt you, Jumbo? Did anything to you? 

— No, sir. He was wandering around and pulled me by my uniform to make questions, but then Mr. Carlisle arrived — he looked at Thomas. 

— Wandering, eh? Don’t like strangers wandering around these parts. 

— He came on foot, sir and I noticed he had matches from that local pub some other teachers go to, in the village nearby. 

Jim stopped what he was doing to smile proudly at the boy. Thomas was watching the scene, quite happily. 

—Eh, probably a drunk vagabond wandering around until the pub opens. Still I’ll keep an eye on that. Good job, Jumbo! Best watcher in the unit he is, Mr. Carlisle. 

— I can see that. 

The boy looked at them feeling proud of himself. His favourites teachers liked him and that mattered a lot to a boy like Roach. 

— Thank you, sir. Mr. Carlisle — he left as quickly as he came and disappeared in the hall. 

— Well, if you excuse me, Mr. Ellis. 

— Of course — Jim nodded.

— Hope we see each other around — he completed, shyly — To talk, in better circumstances.

Jim was extremely surprised but managed to maintain his serious expression. 

—Of course, Mr. Carlisle. 

Thomas nodded and walked down the corridor, almost as fast as Roach. He was completely embarrassed and could feel his cheeks were burning red. God, he hoped Jim hadn’t noticed that. He was a fool, wasn’t he? 

But love makes us fools, he had learned that from literature, and his initial crush on Jim Ellis had grown into a passion, grew each day closer to what Wilde and Austen used to write about. 

[...] 

Two weeks later, on a Thursday right after lunch, Thomas found Jim sitting at his favourite table in the library.

Both of them had tons of essays to read and as he felt the urge to be next to the man, he didn’t let his shyness get in the way.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all”, Jim answered politely.

They sat there next to each other for hours, not a word spoken.

What Thomas thought it would be embarrassing, was not. It felt comfortable in a way they could enjoy the silence and still have the company of the other.

Thomas was happy to be there, glancing at the other occasionally, which Jim obviously noticed, but didn’t process quite well in his head. He wasn’t used to having company like that, so the whole situation was unusual.

Jim rearranged himself in the chair, what brought a contraction to his shoulder. His discomfort was visible on his face and Thomas noticed.

“Are you alright?”, Thomas asked tenderly.

“Hum?”

“Are you alright?”

Jim stopped for a second to reflect. That had been the first time someone asked him how was he since he was shot.

No one at Sarrat did, Smiley didn't need to ask him that either.

Thomas' question was a reminder he was alive.

“It bothers me a bit. My shoulder”, he stated.

“Do you think a walk would help? We've been correcting these exams for hours”

“Yes, I think it would”, Jim said in a relaxed tone, dropping his pen.

“May I join you?”, Thomas said with such tenderness that made Jim’s heart skip a beat.

He was surprised by the question, but not disturbed, as he now stared at the visibly shy man.

Thomas talked to him like he knew exactly what he had gone through, like he could see through his eyes how delicate this was for him, letting himself be heard without holding an armour, the connection with another.

“Sure”, despite the pain in his shoulder, he looked delighted.

They walked around the school campus, while Thomas was telling him about the place he spent his childhood.

Jim listened carefully, as they passed by the lake, noticing how sweet the man’s company was and after a while felt comfortable enough to talk about the beauty of the english green fields. There were some ravens on their path, which quickly led to a discussion about Edgar Allan Poe and then to something else as they talked and talked. 

As they passed by Jim’s trailer, Thomas asked him what brought him to that school.

“I arrived here in 1974, came from London”

“You worked in a school there too?”

“I worked for the government. Retired in the war”. It was all he could say.

Thomas imagined that something bad had happened to him, after all it was the bloody war, but knew he couldn’t address such matters, so he remained in silence for a while.

“Is that the sports pavillion?”, Thomas inquired.

“Yes, it hasn’t been used for a while now”

“Oh that’s right, I haven’t seen a PE teacher. What happened to the last one?”

“He eloped with the former headmaster”, Jim said it carefully, as he observed Thomas’ reactions.

“Eloped?”

“Yes, they were lovers for some time and decided to go live in America”, Jim said naturally.

Thomas stopped abruptly. Jim was talking about two men who were lovers with a naturality like he understood what they...like he was too...like he knew about...

“Thomas?”, Jim let the formalities aside. He knew it was a delicate matter.

His cheeks were red, as they typically were at the mention of men in love. Not that he was ashamed, he just didn’t know how to casually talk about it without having the word QUEER written all over his face.

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts”

“It’s alright”, Jim's tone was calm.

Thomas was scared anyway. This could mean Jim wouldn’t tolerate him there and he would loose his job and most importantly, he would be rejected by the man he was in love with.

“It’s quite a romantic story, eh?”, Thomas nervously offered.

“There’s only one thing I don’t agree”, Jim was playful in a way he hadn’t been in a while.

Thomas froze.

“I don’t see why living in America would be better than living in England. Plenty of _us_ live here just fine”, he stated subtly and secure.

Thomas felt like a huge weight had just being taken off his shoulders as he laughed, understanding what Jim had said to him between the lines. He couldn’t even believe the man had trusted him in such a way. He was even more enchanted by his presence, by his sensibility in addressing the matter so gently.

“Plenty of us”, Thomas repeated.

Jim was unaware of the reason why the man made him feel comfortable to the point where he talked freely. Thomas just seemed trustworthy and he didn't need his spy skills to see that.

He could feel glimpses of what was once his nature, before enduring trauma had brought him a cape of rigidness. Beside Thomas the cape seemed to lost its weight. He felt his shoulders lighter and the afternoon walk had ease his pain.

They walked back to the school just in time for Thomas arrive at his classroom. It had been a pleasant walk.

[...] 

Later that afternoon, Jim passed by the classroom where Thomas was still lecturing. 

His curiosity towards the man had been dealed by himself with caution. Jim had the habit of dettaching from his feelings, as much as he could. It wasn’t a conscious habit. It just had been tough to let himself feel.

Still, he stood there, listening closely to every word he said.

_“I wandered lonely as a cloud_

_That floats on high o'er vales and hills,_

_When all at once I saw a crowd,_

_A host, of golden daffodils_

_Beside the lake, beneath the trees,_

_Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”_

Thomas was reading one of his favourite poems.

_“Continuous as the stars that shine_

_And twinkle on the milky way,_

_They stretched in never-ending line_

_Along the margin of a bay:_

_Ten thousand saw I at a glance,_

_Tossing their heads in sprightly dance._

_The waves beside them danced; but they_

_Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:_

_A poet could not but be gay,_

_In such a jocund company:_

_I gazed—and gazed—but little thought_

_What wealth the show to me had brought:”_

His reading was very sensitive. His voice sounded even more soothing when reading Wordsworth.

_For oft, when on my couch I lie_

_In vacant or in pensive mood,_

_They flash upon that inward eye_

_Which is the bliss of solitude;_

_And then my heart with pleasure fills,_

_And dances with the daffodils.”_

Jim had a soft smile on his face.

As the bell rang, the boys ran out of the classroom, except for Roach, who was still packing his books, in a clumsy way.

“Good evening, Jumbo”.

It was odd for Jim to be out of his trailer at that time, in the corridor like that, Roach thought. What reason had him to be there?

“Good evening, sir”, Roach said suspiciously, but ran along the corridor, as the idea of dinner was more relevant at that moment.

Of course, Roach’s observation was accurate. Jim had no reason to be there, apparently. He had only listened to Thomas’ class by pure curiosity, but he waited there, standing uncomfortably, until the class ended.

He had enjoyed the poem reading. Enjoyed very dearly.

"Ellis!", Thomas couldn't hide his excitement in seeing him at the door.

"Mr. Carlisle", Jim formally said as he entered the classroom, "Your reading was very interesting today. It's one of my favourite poems".

"Oh. Thank you", he adjusted his glasses. "I usually try to bring the most reflective ones to class. Not sure if the boys like it, but I try"

"It's the trying that matters, isn't it?", he said, his tone more soothing than he expected to be. 

The sentence brought a smile to Thomas face, the tone of the man automatically making him more relaxed. It remembered him of their talk earlier.

"It surprises me, actually. I thought you'd prefer the french"

"English poems get better along with my tea".

Thomas laughed. _Rire aux éclats_ , Jim thought, it was how the french defined a big laughter, the one that sounded like a lighting, a sparkle. Thomas’ face shined when he laughed. What a bright image it was.

"You're welcomed to listen anytime, Mr. Ellis"

"Thank you"

Jim thought it was strange, really. His heart seemed to be a locked door so far. Full of hatred and self-deprecation, he thought there wasn’t space for his kind spirit to be expressed anymore. He was now just a broken spy, drinking away his pain, filled with sorrow for the bad temper he acquired from his traumas.

However, despite all the pain inside his head, Jim Prideaux realized that afternoon that his soft side hadn’t disappeared, which was surprisinly strange.

Strange, indeed. They had tried to take everything away from him. His secrets, his body, his job, his house, his trust, his peace. Jim thought his heart was long gone too.

Except he didn't realize, until that conversation with Thomas, its beating. It was there. It had never been taken away.

It was in the kind way he treated Roach. In letting the boys have fun with his loved Alvis. In crying himself to sleep, after some glasses of vodka. For his shock, it still was there.

Jim took a long breath. 

It was specially in making Thomas smile, the moment when his beating didn’t sound melancholic as a Mahler’s symphony. 

On that evening he felt himself again as he felt his heart's beating, as naturally as a clock worked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that Thomas was reading is called I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, written by William Wordsworth. I chose it because it was a poem about solitude and I think Jim understands well the concept. Thank you for reading!


	3. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letting yourself feel is madness. Absolute madness.

The following week passed quicker than usual. Friday arrived and all the boys went home for the weekend. Even Roach, who usually stayed at the school, was picked up by his mother that afternoon.

The school was empty. Well, almost empty.

“You're still here?”, Jim said as he entered the refectory.

That was the first time Thomas had seen Jim in that week. He presumed he was busy, organising all the details for the boys to spend the weekend out. But god, he had missed him. Missed him too much.

“Oh, hello! I am physically here, yes, but my head wandered away 3 essays ago”, he had taken some essays to read while he was having his dinner.

Jim smiled, hiding his face. He got some bread and tea from the kitchen and walked back the room, wondering where he would sit, since all the other tables were covered by cloth.

“There’s space here, if you like”, Thomas offered a seat next to him.

Jim shyly nodded, seating next to the other.

“I think you'll like to see this. The task was to write a poem containing a quote someone you admired once said to you. Roach wrote this. He told me you said it to him”, Thomas offered him a piece of paper.

“He's a good lad”, he took the poem to read with a soft smile on his face.

Roach’s poem was called “Us Loners Always Are” and it wasn’t Wilde or Wordsworth, only the simple words of a boy who was a loner at heart:

_Us loners always are,_

_The sleepless at night,_

_The kindest of men,_

_The quietest of children,_

_Morning’s first ray of light._

_Us loners always are,_

_The most observant of all,_

_For we see what no one else sees_

_And spot each other better than it seems._

As he read it, he remembered himself of how was his life before Thomas.

He had always been a loner. He would always be a loner, wouldn't he? That was what he deserved it, his penitence for still existing.

He had been avoiding Thomas on purpose the whole week.

Jim had become aware of his feelings since he listened to Thomas reading in the previous week and couldn't manage to have a conversation with the other man, lying to himself about those. Talking with Thomas, letting himself feel comfortable would give him hope. And hope was a dangerous thing for a loner to have.

At this point, he hadn't the luxury to afford any other tragedy.

The mere thought of it was...too much to handle.

“Glad to see Roach is doing well”, he said absentmindedly. Of course he was flattered for being someone Roach admired, but his head had another thoughts in that moment.

Jim stood up abruptly.

“Good night, then”, he said as left the room visibly disturbed by his thoughts.

It felt like a cup hitting the ground.

In a matter of seconds, his soft smile disappeared and the man got out of the room without even finishing his tea.

_What the hell was that?_

In any other case, with any other person, Thomas Carlisle wouldn't mind. But this was Jim Ellis, the man he was so in love with, the man who hadn’t spoken to him for days.

He couldn't and wouldn't let Jim go away that easy with a "good night, then".

He dropped his pen and ran to find him.

“Are you avoiding me?”, Thomas asked blatantly as he entered the french classroom, still recovering his breath. 

Jim turned his face, surprised to see that the man had followed him. 

“...Cause I understand if you are, I would just like to know why, what have I done wrong”

“You haven't. Not a bit”, Jim stated sadly.

“So why then?”

Jim looked at the sensitive man in front of him. The sweetest man he had ever known. He had too much bitterness within him to Thomas to put up with. It was way too much. He couldn't let the man be near him.

“Why do you care?”, he said skeptically.

“Because I enjoy your company. Because...it's been awful without it”

“Thomas, don't ruin your time with me. I bet you could have plenty of options out there to be accompanied by, all better than me”

“I don't care about having options. I don't want them. I don't want...anyone else’s company. Only yours", he said feeling it even more ardently now that he had said out loud.

“But if you don't want mine, then fine. I'll leave right now if that eases your burden” he tried to be tough, but his voice was already cracking.

He didn’t want to leave. All he wanted was to stay.

_Damn it, Jim. Look what you done to him._

“No, Thomas, no.", his tone was softer, "You don't understand. I'm a crippled, old man who lives in a bloody trailer, just take a look at you. How is being in my company fair to you, eh?”, becoming slightly harsher by the end of his sentence.

“Is that what you think you are? Is that how you think I see you?”

Jim turned his head down, staring at the wooden floor.

“You're wrong. You are so much more than this sad picture you paint of yourself. If you could see what I see, you would know”

“You have no idea what I've been through, Thomas. You don't want the company of a man like me”

“I may have no idea but that doesn't bother me at all. I want your company, from now on. I'll save you a seat, for as long as you want my company”, he was speaking from his heart.

“How could I have your company knowing I can't have you the way I want?”, Jim blurted out. 

Thomas eyes were wide open. Jim wanted him too.

“Ellis...Jim, I-, I want you. In every sense of the word. _I want you_ ”

Jim stared at him, profoundly.

“Don't push me away, please. I want to stay here with you, for you. I could never understand what in your mind tells that you can't, what the hell is telling you that you are lesser, but if worth's anything, I want to stay beside you, no matter what”, Thomas said gently.

“You would get tired of me, Thomas”, he looked down, skeptical once again. 

“I'm certain that I will not”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I already regret not knowing you before”.

“I regret it too”, he stared at the rain through the window.

The way he said was so honest Thomas could feel tears forming. He had no idea what happened in his past, but he surely knew Jim didn't deserve even half of whatever it was.

He stood up, like some kind of invisible smoke was disturbing him again and he needed to leave immediately.

“Because you deserve someone in one piece. Not...broken like me. I need some air", Jim stormed out of the classroom. 

Thomas finally reached Jim as he arrived in the school hallway and touched his hand. Jim's body paralyzed with the warm touch.

“I want you, Jim” he said softly, “for all that you are, for every single part. All of you”

“I WANT YOU TOO, ALRIGHT? Didn't even know it was possible for me to feel like this at this point of my life. It's madness. Absolute madness. But I won't let you ruin your life with the fucking hunchback of Notre Dame here, alright? Even if that means I can't have you, even when I want you. It's not what you deserve, Thomas. I may be broken, but I'm not a selfish bastard”

Jim got out of the hallway, walking through the rain on his way to the trailer.

“Goddamnit Jim, wait!”

He walked, as fast as he could, while his clothes were getting all wet, following him until they reached the trailer’s door.

“Why me, Thomas? Of all people, why me?”, Jim shouted.

“Why not? How could I not?”, he said in tears, “Why can’t you let me feel this? Why can’t you let yourself feel it too?”

As raindrops fell on their faces, Jim noticed that Thomas looked at him differently than what he had ever seen in his life.

It wasn't the look of fanatic or a look of pity. He wasn't putting him on a pedestal, he wasn't stepping on him on the floor.

Jim could see there were admiration and wonder in it, like the man was able to see right through his closed armour and touch Jim's heart. Like he could see Jim for what he's, despite the damages of trauma.

It was a tender and soft look, like his brown eyes could almost heal the scars from the past.

In that moment, he began to think Thomas could.

Impulsively, Jim pulled Thomas closer and placed his arms around the man, resting the head in his shoulder.

“I can't ask you to put up with me, it's too much to ask of you”, Jim whispered

“You don't need to ask. I'm here”.

Thomas pulled back from the hug to look directly into Jim's eyes and cupped the man's face with his hands.

"I'm not going anywhere", he whispered softly.

As a smile formed in Jim's lips, he slowly leaned closer, letting his lips feel the touch of Thomas'.

For years, all he had felt was the bitterness of cigars and liquor.

The bitterness of loneliness.

In that moment, all he felt was the sweetness of Thomas' lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! feeling emotional after writing this one.  
> Thank you for reading it, thank you for being here since the start of this story.  
> I think jim deserves this story and that's why i keep writing it so i thank you for reading it :)
> 
> fun fact: the poem written by roach was written by me, just to put on a Prideaux page on my journal and then i ended up having the idea to use it as Roach's in this story.


	4. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was this the ultimate state of vulnerability? Showing your scars to someone you loved and is afraid of loosing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistake. It's 6am. Well, for Thomas and Jim still is the same rainy friday night.  
> For me it's 6am of a sunday.

Thomas opened his eyes, smiling, right after Jim had kissed him.

His kind eyes were staring right into Thomas’ hazel ones and while the rain was still falling down their faces, Thomas could see a pair of tears rolling down the other man’s face.

“Come, we should come in”, Jim said as he opened the door to the trailer.

They removed their jumpers and Jim quickly arranged a blanket to put around Thomas’ trembling body.

“Thank you”, he said, smilling. He was sitting at the bed of a man he had been yearning for weeks.

Jim looked at him again, getting lost in the sweetness of his eyes.

He felt warm inside, despite the cold in the trailer.

Thomas pulled him closer -there wasn’t much space in that trailer, anyway- and kissed him gently.

They had both been in that situation before, but not once in the last five years.

It was their first night together. It was all very vulnerable.

For Jim, specially. He was far more vulnerable now than he had ever been before.

They laid down slowly.

Thomas being extremely careful to not hurt the other man’s back, got on top of him, pulling the blanket to cover them, as they kissed with a gentleness that was suddenly, intensively, becoming madness.

Thomas was still maintaining his soft touch, by kissing Jim’s neck, while Jim was holding his waist tight, pulling him more and more closer.

Thomas’ hand searched for Jim’s shirt and as he started to pulled it off, Jim grasped his hand, abruptly.

Jim’s entire body shrudded as he held his shirt down, breathing heavily and looking terrified at a now extremely worried Thomas.

At some point between the love declaration and the kissing, he had forgotten about all that was hidden beneath his clothes. He had forgotten what caused it, in first place, but now, suddenly, reality kicked in.

“Jim”, his look was preoccupied, as he tried to think of the reasons to cause Jim’s panic.

“It's not...pleasant”, he felt a shiver ran down his spine as he said it. 

This was one of the reasons why he had avoided letting himself have feelings. _Bloody stupid_. How could he had forgotten the marks all over his body?

Ugly. He felt so very ugly.

Jim carefully pushed Thomas aside and sat on the bed.

“When you see this, you...you won't want me, not like...this”, his voice cracking in a way Thomas had never heard before.

Jim’s post-trauma consequences weren't just inside his head. His past was marked all over his body. Memories and scars only a broken spy could have.

“It's you. It's just you and me. It's alright, Jim”, Thomas assured him.

“It's not”, he said, full of embarrassment. 

“Also, there's absolutely no problem if you want to stay dressed, alright? Whatever makes you more comfortable”

“No, that wouldn’t be fair to you, Thomas”

“Jim...”

“You would be with me without knowing, without seeing how...ugly I am and that's not fair to you”, his tone was angry.

He was angry at his past. At himself. Like he was guilty of what happened to him. Guilty for surviving it. 

“I promise you that it’s all fine. I told you before, I want all of you”, he was speaking as gentle as he could.

By that moment, he had connected the dots and considered the fact that when Jim said before he had retired in the war, that could mean he had been tortured in the war as well.

“You don't know”, he was shaking his head, nervously scared.

“So let me know”, Thomas held his hand firmly. “You can trust me”, his voice was tender. Reliable. Honest.

Jim looked the man in the eyes and even feeling nothing but fear of loosing him at that very moment of profound intimacy, he laid down on his back, while Thomas moved closer, beside him.

“Trust me, Jim, nothing will change for me”

Thomas was about to see him as no one else had seen him. To see the parts of him he tried to hid even from himself. It was bloody terrifying.

“Nothing”, he reassured the man with the most tender of looks.

Jim could feel tears forming, but he tried his best to hold it. He was already panting and needed to relax.

He remembered the last time when he was panting the same way, telling himself to calm down. The russians had put a blanket on top of him, before he was taken to questioning in their facility. Before the worst began.

It had been vulnerable back then too, but not like this. This was tender as only Thomas’ hands could be.

Jim stared at the other man and nodded, despite feeling extremely scared of how Thomas would react to...that.

_It was too much for him to put up with,_ he thought to himself _. Way too much bitterness. Way too much scars. He was going to leave him. Of course he would._

The Russians didn’t typically used physical torture during the Cold War, but Jim was unlucky enough to meet a comrade very fond of knifes and cigars in the facility he was taken.

Thomas started to pull Jim's shirt up, the first scars showing up in his belly.

Jim was now staring at the trailer ceiling, too nervous to look directly at the other man’s reactions.

Knowing Thomas was seeing his scars for the first time was a feeling he could have never felt or expected to feel before.

Was this the ultimate state of vulnerability?

Showing your scars to someone you love and is afraid of loosing because of it?

Thomas was trying to hold his tears as hard as he could, in order to not worry Jim, but as he lifted the shirt up more and more, he found out all kinds of scars in the body of the man he loved.

His hazel eyes were now full of tears, which encouraged him to be the reliable companion Jim needed now and be even more delicate in that special moment of theirs.

Jim's body began to timidly tremble as Thomas gently placed his hand on top of the biggest knife scar, that went from one side of his hip until his belly button. He followed the line of the mark, like his touch could heal all the pain his lover must have felt when that was made.

He was now touching all the marks in his torso, the lines from the knife cuts, the cigarette burns evidences.

A pair of tears rolled down Jim's cheek as Thomas placed his lips on his body, softly kissing every single one of his scars.

As he closed his eyes, he traced all back to when he thought he was going to die at any second, when he got back to England, wishing he had died instead of becoming a spy that was broken. 

Now, as he felt every kiss of Thomas touching his damaged skin, he finally didn’t mind being a broken spy. Yes, he might be broken, but even broken, he was feeling loved. He _was_ loved. What else could matter?

Another shiver ran down Jim's spine when Thomas began to remove his sports pants and the scars in his pelvic area, one of the most effective areas for torture, were showing.

“Thomas”, he muffled.

Thomas couldn't hide the tears forming in his eyes.

Who could ever allowed this kind of thing to happen to a human being? Not just any human being, Jim Ellis. The man he loved. The man who surely could never ever ever deserve any of this.

Thomas kissed his hips, his tights and carefully took his underpants, touching Jim's hard member, which also had knife wounds. He placed a kiss.

Jim immediately bursted into tears, his whole body shaking as an automatic reflection to all he was feeling at the moment.

Thomas quickly embraced him in his arms, letting his tears float away too, as Jim placed kisses on his cheek.

“I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry they did this to you”

Thomas' embrace was bringing Jim the relieve he thought he would never experience in his life. The relieve of being loved as he was, scars and all. What he felt it was broken, it was slowly feeling mended. And that was the nature of love.

Jim held the man tight in his arms.

He pushed him aside for a little while and took his shirt, throwing it on the trailer’s table.

Thomas smiled brightly at the scene and leaned closer to the man who most eagerly wanted to kiss him. 

Jim kissed Thomas’ lips and neck, as he pulled his clothes out, madly in love with every aspect of the man.

They both paralyzed with the sound of a thunder in the sky and a few seconds later began to laugh.

Thomas looked at him, he wanted to see Jim’s smile.

“It’s great to see you smile, Mr. Ellis”

Jim managed to revolve the man in the bed, which took Thomas by surprise. Jim was satisfied in discovering he could still be his old athletic self. When needed, of course.

Moving back and forth, their bodies were intertwined. They were following their own rhytm, like the same song were playing in their minds. Without rush or worries, just the harmony of passionate sex.

They reached the peek of pleasure simultaneously, kissing each other’s hand as they laid side by side afterwards, breathless.

They were holding on to each other. It was warmth in a night that was cold.

That night, for the first time in many nights, Jim Prideaux fell asleep peacefully, with a smile on his lips and the man he loved by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad for sharing this with you. For me, this was such an important moment for Jim, this was such a big deal when I thought about it in my mind and I can only hope that I managed to describe it as a special moment between them.  
> I love Jim Prideaux so very much and writing this chapter in particular made me smile so much.  
> I could see Mark Strong's smiles while writing, which was so great to think of :)  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, hope you're enjoying to see this softer side of Jim.  
> Yes, I am aware he's a fictional character, but he deserves the best, in honour of all loners out there who relate to him, as I do.  
> Thank you for reading!


	5. No More Tragedies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more tragedies.  
> Not anymore.  
> Not Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit angsty, but it will all be okay for Jim and Thomas, I can assure you.  
> No more tragedies for our dear Jim Prideaux.

_It was finally Sunday afternoon_ , Roach thought, staring at the familiar green fields through the car window.

His father had managed to ruin his weekend and he was glad to be back at a place where at least he enjoyed the view.

There was nothing different about his surroundings, except for a strange car, parked a couple meters away with two men inside it. He had seen one of them before, he reckoned, but it must have been a long time ago.

Roach was the first to arrive at the school hallway, followed only by Simon, a stubborn classmate of his.

Most boys would only get back at 5. Nurse Collins was supposed to be welcoming the boys, but she was still at the village, so it was only the two of them.

"Hey Roach, are you man enough to walk near the lake?"

"We're not supposed to walk near there, Simon"

"But there's no one watching, come on"

"It's not safe"

"You're such a coward, Roach. Watch how brave I am"

The boy went running to the lake and as he got close to the margin, his new shoes slipped on the mud and he fell.

Roach was startled by the scene and ran searching for the first adult he could find.

"Mr. Carlisle! Mr. Carlisle!"

"What happened, Roach?", he was holding two cups of coffee, on his way to Jim's trailer.

"It's Simon, he fell in the lake"

"Oh God!", he said nervously.

Thomas let go of the cups and ran.

As he ran, he couldn't help but feel stupid for he didn't know how to swim and he was surely not the best option to rescue someone like that. But there was no time to think. He just continued running.

"I'll try to pull him off, but call Jim! I mean, Ellis, call Mr. Ellis!", he yelled to a very confused Roach.

It was an emergency. Someone needed his help. Of course he would help, without a second thought.

He removed his shoes, took off his glasses and jumped into the cold water, without a single clue of what to do, nothing but fear of failing his heroic mission.

He managed to hold Simon. Well, swimming wasn't that hard, after all.

His foot got stuck in some grass and he lost his balance, swallowing water and sinking.

Roach was watching the whole scene as he ran and ran.

By that time, two figures appeared on the top of the hill, walking towards the school. _Who are they? What do they want?_

"Sir!"

Jim was about to put on his suit, unaware of the ongoing chaos.

"Sir!", he knocked at the door, nonstopping.

"Speak, Jumbo!", Jim opened, worried.

"Mr. Carlisle jumped into the lake to save Simon but they're both drowning, sir", the boy desperately shouted.

His heart stopped.

He knew Thomas couldn't swim.

Why would the man jump into a bloody lake if he couldn't swim?

Because he would try to help, he quickly concluded. Of course he would. That was the man Jim had fallen in love with.

Jim ran. He ran as fast as he could.

No, he ran far more than his wounds allowed him to.

Roach was panting, running right behind him.

_No more tragedies._

Not anymore.

Not Thomas.

The image of Thomas still trying to hold Simon up as he was loosing his counciousness was quite paralyzing, but Jim didn't stop for a second.

He removed his vest, he took his shoes.

He jumped, without thinking twice.

He quickly managed to pull Simon and moved him to the border, where Roach held him, efficiently.

The two men spotted by Roach before were now watching the scene from afar, but they would be the last ones to stand still in the face of danger. They were soldiers and before that, they were good men.

"Peter, go help him", George commanded.

Grabbing Thomas by his waist, Jim started to swim towards the lake border, holding the unconscious man with all the energy he had.

The pain in his shoulder was getting unbearable by the physical effort he was putting in, but it would take much more than that to stop Jim from saving Thomas.

As he moved, his weaker side failed to support him during the swim and he submerged, while still holding the man.

Like there was a ferocious power in his veins, he rose up from the water and got near to the border, where a well-known figure of his past helped him pull Thomas out of the lake and then, offered him a hand.

What the hell was Peter Guillam doing there was a question he didn't have the time to think about it now.

Jim's head was processing it all quickly, asserting priorities as he managed to have control of the situation, the characteristics that made him such a good leader.

"Peter, take the boy to the nursery. Roach, show him the way", he said, panting but steady.

Guillam took Simon in his arms as Roach led the way.

Now there was only him and an unconscious Thomas lying on the green field.

George Smiley was watching the scene from underneath a tree.

"Thomas, come on, please", Jim talked to the man, as he applied CPR and rescue breaths.

"Thomas, please, not yet. Not yet"

The man remained unconscious. Jim was desperately relentless.

"Don’t go, it's too soon"

At this point, tears were rolling down Jim's cheeks, each time he touched Thomas' lips.

Thomas recovered his breath, breaking down the desperate silence. His entire body was shaking. His consciousness slowly returning.

Jim took a long breath, closing his eyes, relieved.

"Jim?"

"It's alright, you'll be alright", he held his hand.

"I'm here". Thomas gave him a soft smile as he was still having difficult to breathe.

Jim smiled back at the man. "Yes, you are"

As Guillam got back from the nursery, he and Jim took the heroic literature teacher to Jim's trailer, laying him down.

"Thank you, Guillam"

"Good to see you, Jim", he smiled as he left the two men alone in the trailer.

Smiley got back to his car, politely and patiently waiting for the whole situation to cool down and the night to arrive so he could finally do what he was there to do: pay a visit to an old friend.

Could he call Jim a friend?

He liked to think he could.

And as a friend, he respected Jim’s privacy for it had not been an easy day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to included this chapter only because I enjoy the notion that finding happiness and comfort with each other doesn't exactly means there won't be troubles on their ways, but that with true love, going through those troubles makes you realize even more how much you care for someone and I wanted this for Jim. It's not just the notion of being loved by Thomas, he loves him back and loving is vulnerable and scary, but worthy when reciprocated :)  
> Alright, I'm too soft, apparently. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'll see if I can post the next chapter tonight


	6. Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim shares a drink with an old friend, cleans a stain and holds his man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the spy dialogues are awful, but I tried my best ha. 
> 
> Hope this makes your heart warm in the end :)

Is a friend someone who you drink with?

Then so, George could call Jim a friend.

Thomas was resting in his bed, covered by two blankets.

Jim dressed him with dry clothes of his in the afternoon, took a shower, rested beside him and by night gave the man soup and pills.

George Smiley knocked on his door at midnight. Jim got his bottle of scotch, two glasses and they got into his Alvis to talk.

George explained why he was there, some intel Jim had about a mission he and Guillam were investigating and Jim told him all he could remember.

The mission involved Haydon, of course, like everything from his past, but that name was not once pronounced by either of them.

“Is that all you needed to know?”

“Quite so”, George nodded.

Long silence. Two men enjoying their drinks.

“Do you regret it, Jim? The events that followed Testify?”

George waited for the moment where he could ask such thing. Five years later and encouraged by scotch, that night seemed the right one.

Jim knew what George meant. They stared at each other, both thinking how easy it was for the other to come to the conclusion of the matter.

The matter neither of them would ever speak to anyone else. The death of a traitor. A traitor of England, of George, of Jim.

At the second Smiley discovered about Bill being shot that day, he never doubted the identity of the man who pulled the trigger.

Neither judged him for doing so.

“What is done is done, George. We can't let ghosts haunt us endlessly”

“And how does one stop the haunting, exactly, Jim?”

“Scotch”, he finished his dose with a smirk.

Smiley looked, admiringly, at the man beside him, a what seemed to be a reborn man.

Among all Bill Haydon's lies, there was one visible truth: Prideaux was built by the same firm that did Stonehenge.

However, looking at the man now, knowing what he had gone through and what his life had become since then, George began to wonder if Haydon had calculated the man’s essence superficially.

Stonehenge could be destroyed and never mend again. After all, it was just rocks. Jim was destroyed, but there he stood. Still a leader. Resilient. Mending.

Haydon recognized his strength as in the form of his firmness, but stones once broken are broken forever.

George wasn't sure Bill was perceptive enough to recognize Jim’s vulnerability as well. He didn’t understand that was Jim’s real strength. Where his courage laid.

That so, Haydon could have never predicted his mending.

Prideaux was the perfect example of something George believed for a long time: Courage is not standing up without falling. It's rising up after the fall.

Jim could probably go through the hell he had been through all over again and still end up enjoying his glass of scotch in a cold night like that. 

But no. The mere thought of Jim going through that again was unbearable. He deserved a quiet life. The life he seemed to be having now, despite the recent accident and with an heroic companion by his side.

George had seen Jim rescue Thomas that afternoon. He had seen and understood quite clearly the nature of their relationship.

George Smiley sees everything. After all, he was the second best secret agent in the whole wide world. Or was he the first?

Jim looked at the man beside him. They were never exactly close. In fact, that was only the second time they shared a drink together but Jim had always admired George. He was a fine agent and a good man.

He wasn’t sure if George saw him as a friend, but for Jim, he was the closest to a friend a former spy like him could have. He didn’t share his scotch with anyone.

“I've always admired a man that jumps in a lake to save a life without giving a second thought”, George said, referring to Thomas.

“Specially when the man in question doesn't know how to swim”, Jim sighted, still a bit of worriedness in his voice.

Silence. George finished his drink. 

“He’ll be alright”, George nodded at Jim as he left the Alvis, making sure Jim understood what he meant by that.

Jim nodded back at him, understanding. "Thank you".

Jim walked before entering the trailer, his body a shape surrounded by the fog.

Thomas was still sleeping peacefully and George had left a while ago.

Morning light hadn't come out yet. He stared at the dark sky, enjoying the silence.

But as he closed his eyes, he felt like a ghost was starting to talk with him in his head.

"Old friends you and George, now? How exquisite"

He knew that voice.

"You're dead"

"Not exactly dead, am I?"

"Yes, you are. Made sure of that"

Haydon had started as a friend, had been his lover, became his fatalistic enemy and was now a ghost, haunting his mind in the darkest of hours, only when he was alone, wanting some damn peace.

"A simple peasant, is he not? The kind Mr. Carlisle with his soft manners and hazel eyes. As sweet as sugar?", Haydon mocked.

"As loyal as you never were"

"Ouch, Jim boy. That one burned". Haydon maintained his sassiness, even as a ghost. "What happened to Haydon and Prideaux? The inseparables"

"You made sure to separate them, didn't you? With all that talk about aesthetic and ideals, when it was all just your bloody ego"

Jim was finally confronting Bill’s ghost after ignoring him all this time.

The scotch in his system was going to put an end on all the haunting. 

"I wanted to leave a mark"

"You did. What a legacy. Sleeping to George's wife, betraying everyone who ever called you friend".

"I had the decency of leaving you before I started my affair with her, didn't I?"

"Is that what you called it? Decency?", he scoffed.

"That's not the Jim boy I know. Where's the devotion, the man who would defend me from anyone, anywhere?"

"He was shot at Budapest"

"Then if our story's over, what are you doing out here still writing those pages, Jim?"

"Have you ever cleaned a dirt stain from a white shirt, Bill? You have to rub it until it's gone."

"You can't just erase our past, dear boy."

"Thanks to you, it already was. They told me to become a lotus-eater, start a new life, eh? I followed my duty. I'm cleaning the stains, Bill."

"A stain? I'm not even a beautiful ghost of yours?"

"A faded stain", he stated coldly.

"Christ, Jim. Not even for old time sake? Just because of two nights of sex? With _that_ man?", Bill's ghost begged, petulant.

"Goodbye, Bill"

The haunting had stopped. The silence returned. His shirt was clean.

Jim opened his eyes. As the first ray of light touched his face, he smiled noticing it was dawn.

An hour later, he entered the trailer, holding a flask containing coffee and poured the steamy liquid in two cups.

Thomas woke up with the smell of coffee and at the sight of Jim sitting on the sofa, contemplating him.

"Good morning, Mr. Carlisle", he smiled gently.

"Good morning", the man smiled back at him, blushing.

Jim sat next to the man on the bed and as they finished their coffee, he had a reflective expression on his face. 

"Thomas, if the worst had happened yesterday, I-"

"Jim..."

"I want you to know that you matter to me. I-", he glanced at Thomas and turned his head, inhaling deeply, visibly startled by the thought of loosing him. 

"Jim, I know. You've said it yesterday, without using the words. And when I was there drowning, I could only think of our nights. I knew. I love you too", Thomas said with a glow on his face.

Jim held him in his arms, relieved. 

“And oh lord, how is your shoulder?”, he suddenly pulled back from the hug, worried.

Jim pulled him closer again, pleased by the way Thomas cared about him.

His shoulder was aching, but he didn’t actually mind at this point.

Some of Jim’s broken parts were mending.

Mending with such firmness that would leave Stonehenge jealous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was glad to make Jim and George share a drink (i love scotch and wish I could share a drink with them haha)  
> This fic helps me mend some of my broken parts. I hope it can help other loners too :) 
> 
> Sending soft vibes, please take care and wash your hands!


	7. A Proper Access To A Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Après la pluie, le beau temps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to give a little explanation about this chapter's title, cause it's a bit personal haha  
> 2 years ago, I started my blog on Tumblr to talk about TTSS and on a certain night, 3am I was thinking about the fact that Jim's trailer didn't have a bathroom. I had watched the 2011 movie several times, but out of nowhere on that night, I noticed that for the 1st time and I was mad. The man had gone through hell and he didn't even had a proper access to a bathroom!   
> So I wrote a post about that and every once in a while I thought about it. About how nice it would be for Jim to have a hot bath in a comfortable bathtub, you know, crazy fan that cares too much about a fictional character (but also someone who has back pain and knows a bathtub bath would be nice for his wounds)  
> Last month, an amazing spy joined the ttss fandom, making me read that old post and finally think "yeah, i have to write him a soft story".   
> Here we are. I couldn't miss the opportunity of joking about that old post and now you understand why haha
> 
> All paths lead to the...bathtub, i guess.

_He had got back to England. He was alive._

The autumn leaves were suddenly being replaced by the first snow of winter.

3 months after that accident, Jim walked by the school, as the sun was setting.

On his way to the trailer, his mind wandered thinking why he could feel the breeze lighter, the image of the country fields more peaceful.

He began to think about how each event of his past played an important role for him to be standing where he was now.

Jim Prideaux would never thank the events of his past. You can never thank unfairness.

But it was true that without his past, he would have never been where he was. He would have never met Thomas.

Thinking about his present, it didn't actually seem to matter how he had got there. It only mattered that he had and because of that, he felt at peace.

He entered his trailer to grab a bottle of wine he had bought to his dinner with Thomas that evening.

As he was closing the door, he noticed someone approaching.

"Come here, Jumbo"

"Hello, sir"

"Weren't you supposed to be at your music class?"

"They are rehearsing for their Christmas presentation and I'm not part of it"

"In which part are you in?"

"The Christmas play, with Mr. Carlisle. He wrote it himself"

"Oh, did he?"

Jim acted surprised but he was quite aware of the sleepless nights Thomas had spent writing a play that could fit all the boys who couldn't sing.

"I'm worried about it. I will play an important character by the end of it and I don't want to ruin it"

"You'll do fine, Jumbo. You're a watcher, eh?"

The boy nodded proudly.

"Pay attention to what you're doing, how you're saying the words you're supposed to say"

"Right, sir. I want to leave Mr. Carlisle proud"

"I'm sure he'll be", he smiled gently.

"Is that wine, sir?", Roach pointed to the bottle. "I heard my mom saying once that wine was only good when you drink it accompanied by someone else. She said wine was for lovers. Is that true?"

"Loners drink wine too, when they're adults", he joked.

"Can a loner become a lover, love someone, sir?"

Roach asked something he wasn't quite sure of what it was, but it seemed right to do so, since his teacher was carrying a bottle of wine.

He was naive to understand the full meaning of the word “lovers”, but still he wanted to know Jim's opinion on the matter.

"When we're least expecting, Jumbo. You'll know someday when you find it", Jim said, surprising himself of how hopeful that sounded.

But the truth was, he had reasons to sound hopeful. He already knew for a fact that life could turn for the worst, but he certainly was surprised when he realized it could turn for the better.

If he could share that thought with other loners, he would.

"After all, loners are the kindest of men, isn't that right?", he smiled at the boy.

"Quite right, sir", he smiled without hiding the surprise of hearing Jim quote his own poem.

He did wonder, though, how Jim had read his literature paper and if that had anything to do with his friendship with Mr. Carlisle.

Of course, Bill Roach still had a whole life ahead to understand the concept of lovers.

15 minutes later, Jim was parking his Alvis behind a small pension in a village nearby.

He knocked discreetly on the door.

As Thomas opened to greet him, he was suddenly and ardently attacked by a Jim Ellis who, while holding the wine bottle, placed his arms around the man, pushing him back to his room and still managing to close the door behind him.

"Is that how you usually enter a place? Not even a hello first, Jim?", Thomas joked before he started to giggle.

He was thinking of what he had said to Roach a while ago. He knew he had found it. He had finally got it right, for once and for all.

He couldn't help but hold his man in his arms, impulsively.

"Hello. I brought wine"

They ate bread with cheese, had half of the bottle of wine and finished their dinner with tea and biscuits, accompanied by comments regarding the Thorpe Trial, which happened earlier that year.

"Norman Scott stood there, in front of the whole court and talked freely as a queer, can you imagine? I still cannot believe those criminals weren't sentenced. Like our lives mean nothing, which couldn't be more untrue", Thomas spoke from his heart.

"All bloody bastards, being judged by another. Still, his story was heard, there's some kind of justice in that. For all of us. _Après la pluie, le beau temps_ "

"Every cloud has a silver lining", Thomas had been learning a bit of French lately.

"Indeed", Jim glanced at the man.

Thomas looked up, grinning. In the last two months, he had thought about all the storms that had brought him there. Jim was his silver lining too.

"Do you want some more tea?", he stood up, cleaning the table.

"I had enough. _Je te veux_ "

"Hum?"

Jim pulled Thomas by his hips to sit on his lap, showing what he meant.

He turned quite excited by the move, unbuttoning Jim's polo as the man gripped his thighs.

Thomas' company made Jim feel young. Impulsive.

The pain on his back, however, was an unpleasant memory that he wasn't the same athletic man of 20 years ago.

He groaned, bothered, but still continued to kiss his companion, without complaining.

Thomas had listened to his groan and pulled back to look at him.

"Jim, did I push you too hard?"

"No, not at all. It's just your disadvantage of being with an old man", he sighted frustrated, in a deprecating tone.

"Disadvantage? Well, that's it", he got out of his lap determinated, taking the wine bottle with him to the bathroom.

Jim laughed at the way Thomas was mad by his self-deprecating mode as he could hear the sound of a bath being prepared.

"Come, old man. Let me show you how I feel about your so called disadvantage", he sounded authoritative and Jim followed his command.

They both removed their clothes and got into the steamy bath.

Five minutes inside the bathtub and Jim's pain was already relieving.

"Is it better?"

"Much better"

"Don't ever call it a disadvantage, Jim. It's not what it's for me"

"It just frustrates me. And I'm not getting any younger, Thomas"

"Neither am I! What, you think I’m some sort of Dorian Gray?"

"I sure hope not"

They both laughed.

"It doesn't make anything less pleasant for me, if that's what you're wondering. I am lucky to have you, all of you and there's no disadvantage in that. No matter how poorly you speak of yourself", Thomas stated clearly.

"Thank you for understanding. Who I am", Jim placed a kiss on the back of Thomas' hand.

The man kissed his hand back and a silence reigned for a while, as the two men enjoyed their peaceful moment.

"I don't know how you can live in that trailer without a proper access to a bathroom", he took another sip of wine.

"You get used to it, after a while"

"You get used to discomfort?"

"If you have to", he moved his fingers by the water.

"Jim, you don't have to. Have you ever considered that?", he said gently.

Thomas could feel that he breathed heavily.

Jim hadn't considered that was more to life than surviving until he met Thomas.

"I also don't like the idea of you having to face rain, snow and a long walk just to go to a toilet!"

Thomas was speaking lightly but he was actually disturbed by that. It worried him that Jim sometimes arrived at the refectory with his clothes wet on rainy nights.

It was all too uncomfortable for the man he loved and he didn't even seemed to mind.

"I haven't thought of that", he said, reflective.

He hadn't. How much he pushed himself through the limits every day, how he didn't have a proper access to a bathroom during five long years.

He got too used to the discomfort, to the moroseness of it all.

Jim kissed the back of the other's head.

Now that he thought of it, as he caressed Thomas' chest, he understood that he needed to let go of the notion that living in his trailer by himself was the only perspective of future he had. It wasn't anymore.

His trailer wasn't home. Having Thomas in his arms was.

There was a long silence while he was reflecting.

"We should discuss it", Jim said, certain.

"Discuss what?"

"Plans"

"Plans of getting you a proper access to a bathroom?", Thomas joked.

"Plans of spending our future together"

Thomas’ heart skipped a beat.

He turned to face the man. Jim had a look of certainty in his face, as he smiled softly.

Thomas had thought of it, obviously. Dreamed of talking about with him, when the other man was comfortable enough to talk.

Not that he had any doubts about the man’s love for him or his intentions to commit.

He could feel in his bones the love and the loyalty of Jim Ellis.

But sometimes, when he slept alone in nights they couldn't spend the weekends together, he thought about them coming home from the school, the amusement of hiding from everyone else, the domestic life many couples like them couldn't have in such times.

The comfort Jim should realize he needed. The happiness they deserved.

"Our future", Thomas repeated, smiling.

"I got too used to discomfort, Thomas. Way too used. It's strange to realize I can relax now. Put the armour down, after the war", he was being more vulnerable than he was used to.

"I know, my love"

"I want to be home, to be by your side"

Thomas smiled at the thought of what home meant to Jim. He felt the same way with him.

"For as much time as I still have, even if it's not much", he looked down. 

"Oh shut up, will you?"

Thomas had tears forming in his eyes and Jim pulled him close, holding him tight.

They stayed on the tub until the bottle of wine was empty.

Thomas put on his robe only for Jim to take it off right after, as he guided the man to the bed, laying him down.

"Jim, careful!"

He wasn't as athletic as before, but he surely still had the energy to take the man he loved in his arms.

The relaxing bath had been quite invigorating to his muscles.

"Let me take care of you now", he said, flirtatious.

Thomas rejoiced as Jim showed quite vividly how much he cherished his lover.

As they cuddled covered by blankets afterwards, looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together, it was quite a relieve to know that Jim Prideaux would finally have a proper access to a bathroom.

Fortunately, that would also include relaxing baths next to Thomas, followed by passionate nights in bed.

It was all very proper indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a dream come true, honestly. Jim in a bathtub with wine and someone who really cares about him? Like...2018 me walked so 2020 me writing this could run lol. What a proper access, am I right? okay, i'll stop now. 
> 
> Fun fact: The Thorpe trial happened in 1979 and it's the main event of a series called A Very English Scandal, with Hugh Grant and Ben Whishaw. Great series, amazing story, I do recommend. 
> 
> I’m thankful for all of you who have been reading, commenting and leaving kudos.   
> Thank you for joining me in this soft TTSS journey :) 
> 
> I hope your hearts are warm as we get to the end of the story!


	8. La Vie En Rose de Jim Prideaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All’s well that ends...well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at last. 
> 
> I’m happy for this story. 
> 
> I know it’s just a fanfic, but perhaps just a fanfic can be a lot. Specially to the loners who read it and the loner who writes it :)
> 
> I do hope this story brought some warmth to your heart while you were reading. 
> 
> Enjoy the finale!

"Roach! There you are! Are you alright?", Thomas had finally found him.

"My parents aren't coming to see me", he was sitting at the backstage floor.

"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But still, you'll do great and me and all the others will be there to witness, alright?", Thomas comforted him.

"Mr. Ellis isn't there yet. What if he doesn't come to see the play?"

"He'll be joining us at any minute"

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely! He will be there front row watching us"

"He's more of a father to me than my actual father, Mr. Carlisle", Roach confessed to him, his voice cracking.

"Well, in that case, your father will be arriving soon to see you, right?" Thomas was speaking lightly, as he could see the boy was vulnerable.

"I hope so. At least one of two, right?"

"Look, I may be a little bit taller than your mom but I could play that part tonight if you like. Both of your parents watching you in a magical Christmas play. How about that?", the man joked.

Roach’s mood shifted completely as he laughed. "Yes, Mr. Carlisle. Thank you"

"I can even arrange for your father to get us Christmas cookies, as a treat after the play. Do you think he would mind?", Thomas continued, it was making Roach feel better.

Roach laughed even more. "As long as we don't eat them in the Alvis"

Thomas laughed. Roach’s statement was accurate. "Oh not in the Alvis, never in the Alvis"

Roach looked at Thomas, grateful. He had been really kind to him in that moment.

Bill Roach had no idea of how adults loved each other, but he hoped Thomas was kind to Jim as well, since they seemed to be colleagues. He deserve it.

Jim entered the pavillion in his typical pace, wearing a black suit and a red tie. Thomas was wonderstruck by the charming look and the attitude he had as he walked calmly. By god, the man seemed like a magnetic field and Thomas couldn't help but stare from behind the curtains.

Jim took a seat in the front row, right in the corner. It was in his nature to avoid center places, even as a head master. Besides, he really expected not to be disturbed by anyone while watching The First Noël, which was about to start.

" They looked up and saw a star,

Shining in the east, beyond them far:

And to the earth it gave great light,

And so it continued both day and night”

Thomas was narrating the play, using a fake brown beard and a white tunic.

The sight of it made Jim smile faintly. It was admirable the way the man was always going the extra mile, doing more than what he needed to do as a teacher. He had worked tiredlessly to make this play happens, just to make all students feel included. Jim was very proud of the man wearing silly costume on a stage surrounded by kids. 

15 minutes later, Roach entered the stage. He was going to deliver the last lines:

“Then entered in those Wise Men three,

Full reverently upon their knee,

And offered there in his presence,

Their gold and myrrh and frankincense:

Then let us all with one accord

Sing praises to our heavenly Lord

That hath made heaven and earth of nought,

And with his blood mankind hath bought”

The curtains were closed and then opened once more. All the boys lined up beside Mr. Carlisle and were received with a big round of applauses from the audience.

As the other boys ran to their parents and they all left the pavillion afterwards, Roach stayed on the stage alone, looking down.

"Jumbo!"

He looked up.

"Sir!"

"Who knew Mr. Bill Roach was such a good actor, eh?"

"I trained quite a lot"

"You played your part very well"

"Thank you, sir!"

"Very well indeed! I'm really proud of you", Thomas was coming from the backstage, now in his usual outfit. He smiled fondly at Jim.

"Thank you, Mr. Carlisle. When I saw the other boys running to their parents I thought I wouldn't have someone to talk after the play was over", Roach was visibly sad as he accompanied his teachers outside the pavillion.

"And miss the chance of congratulating you?", Jim said in his usual manner.

"We couldn't have missed that, could we? Remember what I said earlier?"

Roach nodded.

"Well, your parents are watching you", Thomas concluded, a big smile forming on his face.

Jim frowned his eyebrows, confused.

Thomas and Roach bursted into laughter.

On the next week, as he left the school for the holidays, he thought that whatever happened in the upcoming Christmas parties of his family, he would always remember how proud his favourite teachers were of him.

 _His parents_ , he thought as he remembered Thomas' joke.

Could two men be parents? Roach didn't know.

But those two men were the ones there to congratulate him after his Christmas play and that seemed like a thing good parents would do.

[...]

"Jim, do you want to taste the turkey? I’ve never cooked this before"

"I'm sure it's fine"

"What if it's not?"

"We drink wine", he remarked.

Thomas grinned at him.

"It's fine. Like everything else", Jim reassured.

Two weeks ago, they had found this simple but cozy house in a village 10 minutes away from the school. The house had a bathroom and two rooms, one of which was never used. Their salaries could afford the rent and as they signed the contract, quickly managed to bring their few possessions to the new place.

It was hard for Jim to leave the trailer, but deep down he was quite pleased for doing so.

The trailer stayed where it was parked since it arrived but Jim was now going to a proper comfortable place. With a proper access to a bathroom.

It was now Christmas Day and while Thomas was preparing a special meal to celebrate, Jim sat on his chair in their living room for a while. His shoulder had been bothering him since he took a long walk that morning. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

_He could feel the leather handcuffs in his hands. Turning his head, he could see the pink wall, still dirty with his own blood there. His shoulder was hurting. Bloody waiter. They hit them. A short man arrived. They hit them more. The short man kept hitting him. Then, laughing at him. He was a broken spy. A joke. He shouted. He wanted to leave. Karla should leave. Why was he there once again? Another punch, another sneer. No, not again. Stop. Stop!_

Jim woke up panting, turning his head to check his surroundings, longing to discover that had been just a bad dream. Suddenly, a company made him realise where he was.

"Darling! It's alright. You're home", Thomas had his hands placed in Jim's thighs.

There were some scars Jim Prideaux could never heal completely, some memories that could never be erased.

However, by his side there was a man he loved, the man he meant to keep and cherish for the time he had left.

"Ah, Thomas, come here", he pulled the kneeled man to his lap and held him, as tightest as he could. “I’m so grateful for you”. His voice was almost cracking. “For loving you”

“So am I. It’s alright, my love. It’s alright”,Thomas words were soothing, as he held Jim, comforting him.

It wasn’t Jim’s first nightmare and it wouldn’t be his last, but Thomas was always there for him when he woke up from it.

Jim could feel tears forming in his eyes. It was a huge relieve to have Thomas taking care of him.

However, relieved wasn't the proper word to be used.

Happy.

Jim Prideaux was happy.

They spend the afternoon side by side, watching TV while having tea, a cozy way to celebrate the 25th of December.

"Thomas, you didn't have to"

"It's Christmas. Just open it"

The dark green box contained a lighter, with golden and black features.

On the back, there was a quote engraved:

_To Jim,_

_In my heart you’re never alone._

_T. C._

"Only we'll know", Thomas smiled gently. 

Jim smiled fondly at him, already putting the gift on his pocket. He slowly pulled Thomas closer, hugging him with his eyes closed.

"Wait here", he pulled back and went on his way to pick up a box he had left in the unused bedroom.

Earlier that day, Jim had gone to a city nearby to buy some ingredients Thomas asked for their dinner and to finally pick up the surprise he had been thinking about.

There were a lot of puppies in the adoption center. Some seemed cheerful, taking the center of the yard, some were fighting with others, some just sleeping under the sunlight.

But in the corner, there was one hiding from the fuss, head down, lonely. Jim inquired about him and learned he had been mistreated and abandoned by a family a week ago.

He approached the puppy, who was suspicious at first, but after a smile, came to his arms. That was the one. He knew Thomas would appreciate his choice. The man had a soft spot for lonely and introverted creatures, apparently. After all, he had chosen Jim as his partner.

"What's that?", Thomas was intrigued about the box’s content.

"It's your Christmas gift"

Thomas, surprised, unwrapped the small scared puppy of the blanket. “Oh! Look at you! Hello. Welcome home”

As he held the puppy in his arms, caressing him, he smiled fondly at Jim, who was watching the whole scene. “Thank you”.

The night had arrived and their dinner was set on the table. The turkey tasted delicious and it was accompanied by a bottle of red wine and followed by a marvellous chocolate pudding.

“You alright?”, Thomas noticed Jim was staring at his glass, after dinner was finished.

“Was thinking about that old proverb – ‘all’s well that ends well’. Never payed it much attention before. I understand it now”, he glanced up, a smile forming in his face.

Thomas grinned as he walked to the other side of the table. Cupping Jim’s face, he placed a delicate kiss on his lips.

Still sipping his wine, Jim stood up from his chair, pulling Thomas by his hand, on the way to their living room.

Among all of his Mahler's records, there was a new one he had bought three months ago. It didn't sound like any of Mahler's melancholic symphonies. Edith Piaf’s record sounded soft and joyous, the way his life was now with Thomas by his side.

It was la vie en rose.

_Des yeux qui font baisser les miens_

_Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche_

_Voilà le portrait sans retouche_

_De l'homme auquel j'appartiens..._

Jim grabbed Thomas by his waist, bringing him closer to his body.

“Jim?”

“Hum?”

“All’s well that ends well...”

Thomas intertwined their hands.

“...To end up with you”, Thomas kissed Jim’s shoulder, as he rested his head there, softly.

_Quand il me prend dans ses bras_

_Qu'il me parle tout bas_

_Je vois la vie en rose_

_Il me dit des mots d'amour_

_Des mots de tous les jours_

_Et ça m'fait quelque chose..._

Slow steps on the hardwood floor, two lovers dancing at home.

_Il est entré dans mon cœur_

_Une part de bonheur_

_Dont je connais la cause_

_C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie_

_Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie_

_Et dès que je l’aperçois_

_Alors je sens en moi_

_Mon cœur qui bat..._

"Happy Christmas, my love", Jim placed a kiss on his partner’s cheek.

"Happy Christmas, Jim"

Through the window of their living room you could see the snow falling down, like pieces into place.

As they danced on what was the first of many Christmas nights together, both men had their eyes closed, relieved in each other’s company.

Their story had many chapters, but words were no longer necessary to describe that one.

All that mattered in the end was the image of Jim Prideaux smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew La Vie En Rose should be in the ending and here I would like to thank another english spy for the idea of it. Thank you, mon ami. Not only for this idea, but for all the support and encouragement. To know someone else would be interested in this story was the reason I got excited for writing it, after 1 year thinking about Thomas’ existence only in my mind haha. Thank you for being part of this great and -secret- fandom. 
> 
> I would also like to thank the user Lovethistoomuch for all the sweet comments. ALL THE LONERS OUT THERE UNITE! 
> 
> Here’s the post that inspired the last scene's atmosphere: 
> 
> https://softenglishspy.tumblr.com/post/617961793272397824/edith-piaf-la-vie-en-rose-playing-from-another
> 
>   
> So this is my last goodbye. I couldn’t be more grateful for writing this. 
> 
> I cried thinking about Jim Prideaux smiling. This story exists because I always thought he deserved some happiness and of course I had to finish it with the image of him smiling in the arms of a man who loves him. I think it’s a proper image. 
> 
> This meant quite a lot to me. Hope it meant something nice and warm to you all.
> 
> Merci beaucoup <3 
> 
> Au revoir!

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this story about Jim Prideaux made me feel lighter and I hope all loners out there can feel lighter too.  
> Thank you very much for reading it!  
> Jim, this is all for you. It's the least I can do after all you have been through.


End file.
